Star Trek and all its references are the sole property of Paramount
and Viacom Communications. Star Traks, the Secondprize,
Waystation, and all their references are the sole property of Alan
Decker. That tiny portion left over is ALL MINE! Anthony
Butler, Copyright 1997.
WARNING: The following contains mildly disturbing language
and situations. I'd say it's comparable to the primetime timeslot. If
Seinfeld doesn't offend you, you're probably okay :)
STAR TRAKS: THE VEXED GENERATION
"ALL IN A DAY'S WORK"
BY ANTHONY BUTLER
Captain's Log
Stardate 51707.3. I was awaken this morning by a
message from Wujan, the Sulani president, who tells me
that there is rumor of a race on the other side of our
sector that may be interested in joining the Flarn resistance.
I assured him that the Aerostar would gladly visit the
out of the way planet to parlay for their membership in
our makeshift "Federation."
"You what?" Commander Conway asked incredulously,
glaring at Baxter from his seat next to him at the
conference table, during the usual morning staff meeting.
"You heard me." Baxter said resolutely. "We're
going to go to Barvan Twelve and that's the end of it."
"I don't believe it." Conway replied. "It's an
entire day out of our way."
"I don't care, every planet in the alliance against
the Flarn counts. They haven't struck us hard yet, but
when the time comes, we'll have to be ready." Baxter
said.
Conway folded his arms and sat back in the seat,
staring at the stars as they whizzed by the observation
lounge's windows. "That's ludicrous. We can't act as
the Sulani's little lapdogs. We have business of our own
to tend to."
Baxter shook his head. "No we don't. The Sulani
have pulled our butts out of the frying pan more than
once. Besides, we signed a treaty and we're going to
stick to it."
"You signed a treaty, I sure as hell didn't."
Conway said, turning away from Baxter.
"Orange juice?" Doctor Browning asked, breaking up
the conversation.
"No." Conway said.
"Yes." Baxter said, sticking his tongue out at
Conway. "So there."
Browning poured Baxter's orange juice, looking over at
Conway. "Come on, Commander, we could all use some free
time."
"We have had too much free time as it is." Lt.
J'hana said from the other side of the table. "We are
like spoiled children. Every time we have extra time on
our hands something terrible happens. We are better off
when we are busy."
Counselor Petersen turned to J'hana from her seat
next to Baxter. "I know more than a few people on board
who would disagree with you."
J'hana stared down at her plate, trying to think of
a comeback. "These muffins are excellent." she finally
said.
"Thanks." Browning said, taking her seat. "I made
them myself."
"Wow, Janice." Baxter exclaimed, munching on a
muffin. "You've become a regular master chef!"
Browning smiled. Richards nudged her from his place
beside her and pinched her cheek. "Yep, she's been
helping us conserve replicator power by cooking stuff
herself."
Baxter stopped chewing a moment. "What 'stuff'?"
Browning's smile widened. "Some of the grain samples
Lieutenant Larkin had in the hyponics bay."
"Interesting." Larkin said, eyeing one of the
muffins closely. "I was not aware that cooking unknown
extraterrestrial mammal feces was a human custom."
Baxter suddenly spit the muffin out, rinsing his
mouth with the orange juice. "It was a nice thought,
Janice."
Browning looked at the muffins skeptically. "I
thought they smelled funny."
"Could we please get back to business?" Conway
asked. "I have a battle simulation to do with Beta shift
in fifteen minutes."
"Okay, okay...does anyone have anything else to
report?" Baxter asked.
"I definitely like the muffins, Captain." J'hana
said, still nibbling on a muffin. "They are a meal fit
for a warrior."
Baxter turned to the rest of the staff at the
table. "Anybody else?"
"Well, I have a question." Petersen said.
"What's that, honeybunches?" Baxter asked.
"Well, let's say that you made a date with your
boyfriend to go horseback riding on the holodeck at
fifteen hundred hours, and you forgot that you had a
backup of caseloads a mile long to finish, and you'd have
to work like a demon in order to keep it, what would you
do?"
Baxter glared at Petersen, then his gaze softened.
"I'd say you'd better shine up your pentagram and start
working, Kell."
Petersen smiled. "Okay, I'll try my best."
Baxter paused a moment, looking around the room.
"In that case, if there's nothing else..." he said, in a vain
attempt to close the meeting.
"Captain, I'd like to talk to you..." J'hana said.
"In private."
"Fine. Then everyone else is dismissed." Baxter
said, standing up from the conference table.
The group poured out onto the bridge, going their
separate ways for the day.
Lt. Commander Richards stopped Ensign Ford before
he took his post at the helm. "I need a favor, Ensign."
Ford turned to face the Engineer. "Yeah?"
"I need you to help Lt. Tilleran run a diagnostic
of the transporter buffers. They've been acting up
lately and I'm short on people down in Engineering as it
is."
Ford's eyes lit up. "Which transporter room?"
Richards smiled. "One."
Ford nodded vigorously. "Great. I get off my
shift in twenty minutes."
"Perfect. I knew you'd be ecstatic." Richards
said, joining a waiting Dr. Browning and heading into the
turbolift.
"What was that all about?" Browning asked as the
turbolift doors closed.
"Lt. Hartley works in transporter room one."
"Aahhhhh." Browning said. "That reminds me. You
remember our appointment this afternoon, don't you?"
Richards nodded. "Of course. What kind of idiot
do you think I am?"
"I don't know." Browning said. "The kind that
forgets appointments?"
Back on the bridge, Commander Conway placed a hand
firmly on Ensign Fresca's shoulder. "You ready?"
Fresca had just vacated the spot at ops for Lt.
Larkin, and was slightly startled by the Commander.
"Of course I am." she lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. I just know people have a way of
getting antsy when they're about to be promoted."
"You're kidding me!" Fresca said, surprised.
"Promoted?"
Conway led Fresca to the turbolift on the other
side of the bridge. "It depends on how well you do on
this battle drill. But I will say it looks good."
Fresca smiled as the turbolift doors closed.
"Jeeze. And I didn't even have to sleep with you."
"What's on your mind, Lieutenant?" Baxter said,
sliding into his seat behind his desk and folding his
hands on top of a growing pile of unattended padds.
J'hana stood on the other side of Baxter's desk, as
usual, at perfect attention. "I feel it must be brought
to your attention that I am nearing my time of
Jemlatti'kari."
Baxter gulped, his stomach suddenly feeling very
queasy. "I don't know, Lieutenant, shouldn't you talk to
Dr. Browning about that?"
J'hana shook her head. "It is not a medical
matter." The tactical officer sat down in one of the
chairs opposite Baxter's desk, still keeping her posture
adequately professional. "I have reached a time in my life
when Andorians feel it is a time to celebrate the great
conquests of existence, and also face individual
limitations. Our name for this is the Jemlatti'kari."
Baxter began to feel better when he realized this
didn't involve blood, cramps, or mood swings. "Oh, in
that case, I'm all for it. Jemlatti the day away if you
want to. We're not going to be especially busy."
J'hana shook her head again. "No, sir. You do not
understand. The true Andorian ritual requires a group of
peers to compare experiences with. Andorians feel that
without a base reference in life, we would lose focus.
We must have something with which to measure our
success."
"Well, good luck finding Andorians around here."
Baxter said. "But you're welcome to conjure some up on
the holodeck."
"It would not be the same. I need real people. In
this case, I suppose it would be acceptable to substitute
my fellow crewmembers for my peers."
"Gee, I always thought we were peers."
"You know what I mean."
Baxter thought a moment. "This doesn't involve
pain sticks in any way, does it?"
J'hana laughed a hearty laugh. "Of course not.
Why would lovemaking enter into the ritual?"
Baxter tried to hide his fear of that question
before he responded. "I don't see any harm in it, then.
Feel free to ask any of the crew to compete in the
ritual. But if they refuse, try not to be
too...insistent." Baxter trailed off as he remembered
some instances where J'hana had been less than subtle.
"Understood, Captain. In that case, the first of
the six shall be you."
Baxter gulped again. "Me?"
"The proper instructions will be given at the time
of the ceremony. I will see you in Holodeck Three at
nineteen hundred hours sharp."
With that, J'hana left the readyroom to begin
preparations for the Jemlatti'kari.
"But...what if I say no?" Baxter asked, but it was
no use, she was already gone.
"I really should have gotten to this sooner." Lt.
Tilleran said, as she worked on the transporter buffer.
The entire pad had been disassembled and was strewn all
over the transporter room.
"Don't worry about it." Lt. Hartley said. "It's
not as if we're really busy today. We're flying through
uninhabited space."
"Just as well." Tilleran said. "I think if we had
used that malfunctioning buffer to transport someone,
they'd come back as a pile of bubbling goo."
"Mmmm hmmm." Hartley said, returning to her
magazine.
"Could you hand me the polaron field inducer,
Ensign Ford?" Tilleran said, reaching out her hand.
"Sure..." Ford said, looking at Hartley as she read
the magazine. He shoved a tool into Tilleran's hand and
walked over to the transporter chief.
"Hi beautiful." He said sheepishly.
"Go away." Hartley said, not looking up from her
magazine.
"What are you reading there?" Ford asked, trying
to start up a conversation.
Hartley looked up, annoyed. "Well, if you must
know, I'm reading all last year's copies of The
Federation Frontier. There's a really great article
about magic in here."
"Magic?" Ford asked.
"Yeah, you know, magic tricks. Like pulling a
rabbitt out of a hat?"
"Yeah." Ford said, thinking a moment. "You like
that stuff?"
Hartley continued to read. "Sure do. I remember my
dad took me and my sister to a magic show when we were
little. I thought the magician was the coolest guy."
"Really?" Ford said, raising an eyebrow.
Suddenly there was a great eruption of sparks from
the transporter pad. Lt. Tilleran got up and walked over
to Ford, spinning him around to face her angrily. Her
face was blackened from the explosion.
"You gave me a plasma initiator instead of a
polaron field inducer. We all could have been killed!"
"Whoops." Ford said sheepishly.
"Get out of here, and hope I don't put you on
report, you incompetent bastard." Tilleran said angrily.
"I do not require your help." She then looked to Hartley,
then back to Ford. "And no, she could never get into
that position."
"Oh boy..." Ford said, exiting the transporter
room while the exiting was good. Oh well, he thought, at
least he had an idea of how to spend his free time.
Counselor Peterman collapsed onto the couch in her
office, in an attempt to get a few minutes of sleep
before her nine o'clock appointment.
Suddenly her doorchime rang annoyingly.
"It can't be nine already!" Peterman said, feeling
extremely aggravated.
She walked to the door and opened it. A man in a
blue uniform with a large, gray bandage around his head
stood there, smiling broadly.
"Hello," he said in a childlike voice.
"Who the heck are you?" Peterman asked, ready to
let the door slide shut in his face.
"Dean." He said slowly.
"Crewman...Dean...Wilcox."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Appointment?" Dean asked, seeming confused.
"Appointment." He repeated.
Peterman checked the viewer on her desk, paging
through her calendar. "You don't have an appointment,
Crewman Wilcox, which translates into 'get the hell out
of my office'!"
"But I need..."
"Out!" Peterman insisted.
Dean shrugged and headed out the door. "I need."
"Yeah, that's what they all say." Peterman replied
angrily, ready to settle into a long day of work.
"Three more Jem'Hadar ships have moved into the
system." Ensign Saral reported from tactical. "Our
escape route is cut off."
"Red alert." Ensign Fresca said solemnly from the
command chair. "All hands to battle stations. Raise the
shields and ready all weapons."
"Aye, sir." Saral replied.
"Prepare a spread of quantum torpedoes and target the
lead ship." Fresca added.
On the viewscreen, six small, bug shaped Jem'Hadar
warships bore down on the Aerostar like jackals attacking
a lion carcass.
"Standing by for evasive." Ensign Madera said
from the helm. "Warp power at your command."
"Don't anticipate Ensign, I want full impulse."
Fresca said sternly.
Madera turned around in her chair to face Fresca.
"Are you kidding me? Those are Jem'Hadar warships!
We're outnumbered six to one!"
"You heard me!" Fresca ordered. "Prepare attack
plan Fresca Alpha Six."
"The lead ships are firing." Saral reported
calmly.
"But..." Ensign Madera said.
Suddenly the bridge was rocked with several blasts
from the Jem'Hadar ships.
"Direct hits on both the port and starboard aft
quarters!" Ensign Saral cried out. "Shields down to
thirty percent."
"Return fire!" Fresca shouted. "All weapons!"
"Acknowledged." Saral replied.
"Helm, hard to port!" Fresca commanded. "Move us
out of their line of sight!"
"Aye sir." Madera said.
More explosions rocket the ship, one of them
sending Ensign Rush flying from the operations console.
Madera leaned over and felt Rush's neck. "He's
dead!" she exclaimed.
"Continue course, Ensign!" Fresca commanded.
"We'll worry about the dead later."
"More incoming fire!" Saral shouted.
"Divert all power to weapons and shields." Fresca
cried. "Return fire with quantums, dispersal pattern Fresca
Mu Thirteen."
The ship rocked again; this time panels all over
the bridge burst into flames, sending showers of sparks
all over the place.
"Our shields are down!" Saral cried.
"Get us out of here, Ensign Madera." Fresca
commanded. "Now."
Madera pounded her panel. "It's too late. We've
lost warp power."
"Fresca to Engineering." Ensign Fresca said,
pressing a button on the command chair. "We need warp
power now."
"It's no use, Captain. The primary power coupling
has been destroyed. I can't even replicate you a
sandwich, much less give you warp power."
"Very well." Fresca said dejectedly as the ship
continued to rock, pressing another button on the command
chair. "All hands to escape pods. Launch the log
buoy."
"Hull breaches all over the ship. Casualty reports
indicate half the crew is dead." Saral said. "What
remaining sensors we have indicate that we are being
boarded by Jem'Hadar storm troops. We have failed."
"Damn it." Fresca said, pounding her hand on the
command chair. "We weren't fast enough."
Suddenly the viewscreen, still filled with swarming
warships, disappeared, to reveal Commander Conway,
holding a padd under his arm, clapping sarcastically.
"Excellent job, Captain Fresca. If I was a Jem'Hadar
warrior, I'd probably snap your neck for being
incompetent enough to let me board your ship."
"Gee, thanks." Fresca said. "That means a lot to
me."
"Don't mention it." Conway said, walking over to
Ensign Rush and extending a hand to him. "But I do have
to hand it to Ensign Rush here, he did a marvelous job of
playing dead."
"Thank you, sir." Rush said, pulling himself up
and smiling proudly.
"Computer, exit!" Conway said. The holodeck doors
suddenly appeared on the side of the bridge. "Everyone
is dismissed." Conway added, making some notations on
his padd.
All of the trainees but Fresca left the bridge,
which was still bathed in the intermittent red light of
red alert.
"Question, Ensign?" Conway asked, turning to look
at her.
"Of course I have a question!" Fresca said, her
chin cupped in her hands as she leaned forward in the
command chair. "Do I get the promotion?"
Conway sat down in his usual chair next to the
command chair. "You destroyed this starship and
sacrificed its crew to the Jem'Hadar. What do you
think?"
Fresca jumped out of the command chair and stormed
towards the holodeck exit. "I think this was a huge
waste of time."
"There will be another simulation at fourteen
hundred hours. I'd start practicing maneuvers now if I
were you!" Conway added as Fresca left the holodeck.
"What you are asking me to do is a direct violation
of command protocol, Ensign." Lieutenant Larkin said,
as she watched the viewscreen from the command chair on
the real bridge.
"But it's extremely important." Ensign Ford
complained, obstructing Lt. Larkin's view of the
viewscreen as best he could.
"Satisfying your carnal urges is not one of the
primary missions of this starship, Mister Ford."
Larkin replied, turning her head so she could see the screen
behind the Ensign.
"Pleeeeeassse!" Ford whined. "It would be an
interesting study in human interaction!"
"So you say." Larkin said, looking down at some
readings on the monitor next to the command chair.
"Still, the computer core is restricted to science and
engineering officers on official ship's duty."
"But I can't get the volume of information I need
on my terminal." Ford replied. "I have to get access to
the core!"
Larkin looked up at Ford sternly. "To allow one
of the crew so obviously obsessed with ingratiating
himself to another of the opposite sex access to our
computer core so that he might attain that goal would be
a demonstration of unbelievable incompetence on my part,
not to mention a betrayal of professional etiquette."
"So you'll think about it?" Ford asked hopefully.
"No." Larkin said finally. "I will not."
Doctor Browning hummed a nameless tune as she
studied her medical report on Lieutenant Henson's inflamed
appendix, when Nurse Carter knocked on her door.
Browning looked up. "What is it, Holly?"
"There's someone here to see you, Doctor." Nurse
Carter said, seeming somewhat uncomfortable.
"Is it a patient, or a personal visit?" Browning
asked. "I'm kind of busy."
Holly looked confused for a moment. "It's a
patient, Doctor. I think you'd better come out here and
see for yourself."
"All right." Browning said. "I'll have to start
teaching you how to handle some of these minor cases
yourself."
Doctor Browning felt like eating her words when she
strolled out into sickbay and found Crewman Dean Wilcox
spread out on one of the biobeds.
"Goodness. I forgot all about him." Browning
said thoughtfully.
"You know this guy?" Holly asked, staring at the
readings. "You realize he's almost completely brain-
dead!"
Browning pulled out a medical tricorder and began
scanning the crewman. "What do ya know?" she said
incredulously. "That's weird."
"Hi." Dean said, his eyes fluttering upwards as
he looked around. "I need."
"You certainly do." Browning said.
"How do you know him?" Holly asked, leaning over
Dean with interest.
"He was injured during our trip through the
Bermuda Expanse. I was...kind of busy at the time...and I had
to give him some painkillers and release him. Later Lt.
Commander Richards told me that he saw him fall
down to the bottom of the warp core, but I kind of...um,
forgot about him for a while."
"For a while!" Holly exclaimed. "That was almost
nine months ago!"
"Yeah," Browning said, looking down at Dean. "I
guess that's bad, huh?"
"I don't know. He actually seems to be alright.
Can you hear me Mister Wilcox?" Holly asked.
"Humma." Dean said proudly. "Humma Humma."
"He seems to like you, Holly." Browning said,
smiling.
"You think?" Holly asked.
"Sure. It's slightly less fantastic than the fact
that he should be dead right now. It really is an
interesting medical study." Browning studied the tricorder
readings. "Goodness. Half his brain is swollen and
inflamed, and he has a subdural hematoma the size of a
tangerine."
"This is bizarre." Holly commented.
"You're telling me." Browning replied. "The question
is, what do we do with him? He's obviously not competent
enough to return to duty...whatever it is he did."
"I need." Dean repeated. "Humma."
Browning smiled again. "I think he wants you to adopt
him."
"But what would I feed him?" Holly asked.
"Good question," Browning replied. "But I sure could
use a nice juicy tangerine about now. Excuse me."
With that, the Doctor left Nurse Carter alone with
the nearly brain-dead crewmember.
Commander Conway had almost finished his report on
Ensign Fresca's battle drill when Lt. J'hana stepped into
the holodeck.
"Hello Commander. I did not think you would be
here."
Conway stood up. "Well, I had the holodeck
reserved until ten hundred hours. I thought I'd stick
around and fill out my report."
"How did the trainees do?" J'hana asked with
interest.
"Saral did quite well. Fresca, on the other hand...
I don't think she's ready for promotion. She was way too
uncertain disciplining Ensign Madera for her insubordination."
"She is not in line for promotion to Captain, is
she Commander?" J'hana asked. "She should not know
everything yet."
"True." Conway replied. "What are you here for,
anyway?"
"I'm preparing for the Jemlatti'kari." J'hana said
proudly.
"Gee," Conway said. "Shouldn't you see Doctor
Browning about that?"
J'hana grimaced. "It is not a medical matter.
While you are here, however, I would like to ask you to
participate."
It was Conway's turn to grimace. "I don't know,
Lieutenant...what exactly would I have to do?"
"Recite the proudest moment in your life in front
of me and six others." J'hana replied.
"That doesn't sound so bad." Conway said,
considering the idea.
"Then I shall put your name down as the second of
the six." J'hana said. "I look forward to seeing you
back here at nineteen hundred." J'hana considered
explaining the rest of the ceremony to Conway, but
thought better of it, deciding to leave it as a pleasant
surprise for he and the other crewmembers involved.
"Are you sure Larkin said this was okay?" Ensign
Stuart asked with concern as he unlocked the entrance
to the primary computer core for Ensign Ford.
"Positive." Ford replied. "She's very interested
in my reports from this study."
"Well, here you go." Stuart said. "Good luck.
And be careful in there. If that thing gets disabled,
we're all goners."
Ford nodded quickly, ducking into the entrance to
the core. "Right, right. Whatever. Thanks a lot,
Ryan."
"So then he said, 'I'd start practicing my
maneuvers now if I were you!'" Fresca said, as she
nursed a stiff drink at the bar in the Starlight Lounge.
"Man, that's tough." Mirk said, pouring one of the
other crewmembers at the bar a drink. "So why aren't you
studying?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he told you exactly what you should do to
get the promotion. Don't you think it would be a good
idea to do that?" Mirk asked.
"I had never thought of that."
"It makes sense to me." Mirk replied.
Fresca thought a moment. "Do you think I could
actually do it?"
Mirk nodded. "Only one way to find out, right?"
Fresca stood up. "Good point. Thanks Mirk."
Mirk smiled. "Any time." Briefly Mirk wished
everyone's problems were that easy to solve.
After returning from the computer core, Ensign
Stuart stuck his head into the Chief Engineer's office.
"I'm back, Commander Richards."
Richards nodded as he stared at the information
scrolling past on his viewer. "Great. Let's see if we
can get to that realignment of the dilithium crystals
today."
"Sure thing. Want me to get the attenuators
ready?" Stuart asked helpfully.
"Yeah, good idea. I'll be right out." Richards
said, planning the day's work. But for some reason, he
felt a tugging feeling at the back of his mind, a feeling
he had a very important appointment that day. Oh well,
if it was that important, he was sure he would remember
it.
"So you see my problem." Ensign Vicky Dawson
said, spread out on Counselor Peterman's couch.
Peterman shook her head, her face a complete mask
of confusion. "I'm afraid I don't, Ensign. I completely
lost you after the part about the Dabo table on Deep
Space Nine."
Dawson sighed. "Okay, I guess I can go over it
again. It all started when I began serving as a science
officer aboard the Lakota. We were on our way to the
Cardassian demilitarized zone to look for a Maquis raider
that had made an attack on a Pakled cargo ship."
"Uh huh." Peterman said.
"And when we found the Maquis raider, there was
only crewmember left alive the ship had been hit by a
plasma storm near the Badlands."
"Right." Peterman said.
"And he was soooo cute." Dawson continued.
"I think I see where this is heading." Peterman
sighed.
"Wait!" Dawson said, smiling. "You haven't heard
the good part yet."
"Oh, boy." Peterman said, shifting in her seat.
Her butt was starting to grow numb from the past hour and
a half of sitting.
"All right." Doctor Browning said, looking across the
operating table at Nurse Carter. "Close him up, Holly."
Nurse Carter nodded obediently, attaching Crewman
Wilcox's skullcap to his head and sealing it back up with
a cellular fuser. "This sure is messy work!"
Browning looked over at the hematoma she had removed,
as it floated serenely in a glass jar. "Tell me about
it. We don't open people up as often as we used to, but
when we do, it's a bloodbath."
"He's coming around!" Holly said ecstatically,
pulling off her bloodstained gloves.
"Already?" Browning asked, removing her red surgical
mask. "That's astounding!"
"Better." Dean said happily. "Feel."
"He feels better!" Browning said joyfully. "He feels
better!"
"Better feel!" Dean exclaimed, grabbing at Nurse
Carter's chest.
Holly jumped back. "He certainly is excited about
something."
"Better feel!" Dean said again. "Better feel!
Better feel Humma!"
Browning looked at Dean approvingly as Dean began
dancing around the operating room. "A darn good job if I
do say so myself."
Ensign Ford hurriedly took a swig from his mug of
hot apple cider as he stared at the readouts from the
computer core. Information streamed past his eyes,
pouring into the optical chip he had stuck in the reader,
so that he could read up on the information in his
quarters.
It had been about thirty minutes since he had
requested the information from the computer, and it was
still dumping information. All he could think was how
useful this information would be in winning over the love
of Lt. Hartley.
"So ever since then, I've had this irrational fear
of tricorders." Ensign Pressbury said from the couch in
Counselor Peterman's office. "Is that strange?"
Peterman looked up from a padd, where she had
plainly inscribed:
GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!!
THIS MAN IS A LUNATIC!!!!
"Not at all." Peterman said. "Well, that's all
our time for now. Bye bye then." It was almost thirteen
hundred, and she was barely halfway through her caseload,
and already she felt emotionally drained. Why did people
feel they always had to bring their problems to her?
Ensign Pressbury stood, thanked Peterman vigorously
for her help and hurried out of the office. Before the
doors could close after him, Doctor Browning squeezed her
way in.
"Hi, Kelly. Am I early?"
"By a few minutes, yeah." Peterman said
disinterestedly. "Go ahead and pull up a chair. Or
couch. Or whatever."
"Gee, thanks." Browning said sarcastically. "What's
put you in such a rotten mood?"
"This whole damn rotten tormented crew, that's
what! Do you know how hard it is to be the ship's
Counselor on a ship that's been tossed to the other side
of the galaxy?"
"Honestly, no." Browning replied. "But that reminds
me. I have a case for you."
Peterman groaned. "What is it?"
"Well, he's one of the crewmen from the science
department."
"Uh-huh."
"And he's got some...limitations."
Peterman leaned forward. "What kind of
limitations, Janice?" she said tiredly.
"Well, he's a really nice guy, has a great
personality, great outlook on life...he's..."
"Cut to the chase, Doc." Peterman said.
Browning sighed. "He's clinically brain-dead."
Peterman leaned back in mock surprise. "Is that
all?"
"He could still lead a perfectly normal life. He
just needs some direction. Nurse Carter has decided to
adopt him."
"Adopt?" Peterman asked. "Is that possible? Is
it legal?"
Browning shrugged. "I don't know. I talked to the
captain about it, and he seems to think it's a better
idea than trusting him to take care of himself or taking
him out behind the shuttle bay and putting him out of his
misery."
"Good point. But it's going to take a lot of
explaining if we ever get back to the Alpha Quadrant."
"Well, we'll have to cross that bridge when we come
to...hey, wait a minute!" Browning looked at the
chronometer on Peterman's wall. "It's thirteen hundred
hours. Where the heck is Christopher?"
"I don't know." Peterman replied. "I forgot that
was what you were here for."
"Well, all I have to say is Mister Richards
better have a darn good reason for not being down here.
I mean anything short from the ship's imminent
distruction is-"
Suddenly all the lights went out in Peterman's
office, followed by a sharp siren that seemed to echo
throughout the ship, that was accompanied by a stern
message from the computer.
"The primary computer core is currently
malfunctioning, secondary backup systems have failed.
Power has been lost on all decks. Two minutes to warp
core breach."
"You were saying?" Peterman said calmly in the
darkness.
"Okay, somebody plugged up one too many hair
dryers!" Captain Baxter exclaimed from the command
chair. "What gives?"
"If I were to guess, I would say there is a
malfunction in the computer core." Larkin replied.
"No!" Baxter said sarcastically.
"...and I have a definite suspicion as to whose
fault this is as well." Larkin said. "With your
permission, I would like to take a Jeffries' tube town to
the computer core."
"Be my guest." Baxter said urgently. "You have a
minute and a half."
"Who put out the lights?" Richards asked
incredulously, pushing his office doors open and shining
a wrist beacon throughout Engineering. His beacon
reflected in the eyes of Ensign Stuart.
"Don't know, sir. We read a power spike from the
primary computer core and then everything went dead."
"Great." Richards said, shining his beacon at
the warp core. "Start locking in the magnetic
constrictors, and fast. We have less than a minute and a
half before the deuterium and anti-deuterium start
getting to know one another, and I don't want to be
around if that happens."
"Yes sir." Stuart said, climbing the ladder that
led to the upper core. "I'll get the top."
"Well," Richards sighed. "I always liked being
on the bottom best, anyway." With that, the Engineer slid
down the same ladder towards the bottom of the core,
where the manual lockdown mechanism was.
"Ariel!" Lt. Hartley shouted urgently through the
darkness. They had just done a test beaming when power
went out, and the last thing Hartley saw before power went
out was Tilleran beginning to shimmer onto the pad, but
she had no way of knowing whether or not she had finished
materializing.
"I'm right here!" Tilleran replied. "That was too
damn close for comfort."
"You're telling me." Hartley said. "I thought you
were a goner."
"I wonder whose fault this one is?" Tilleran
mused.
Hartley grinded her teeth angrily. "I'll give you
one guess."
"Ohshitohshitohshit!" Ensign Ford panicked,
running from one end of the computer core to the other,
each time smacking into the wall painfully. "What the
hell am I going to do. Larkin was right, I'm going to
blow up the ship!"
Suddenly a steely cold hand clamped down on Ford's
shoulder. He assumed it had to be the hand of death.
"Go ahead and take me, Grim Reaper! I'm ready for
ya!" Ford cried.
"I am not the Grim Reaper, Ensign." Lt. Larkin
replied. "However, if you wish to survive you will
follow my instructions to the letter."
"Whatever you say, whatever you say!" Ford cried.
"I just don't want to die!"
"Nor do I." Larkin replied. "Now, from the
distinct smell of burnt apple, I shall assume that you
spilled some form of hot apple cider all over the
computer core."
"That's correct." Ford said, a little embarrassed.
"I knocked the mug right down to the bottom."
"How unfortunate. You must have fused the
primary opticable junction."
"What can we do?" Ford said, panicking.
"I have exactly thirty meters of isolinear optical
cable lining my inner cavity. It is a thirty-two meter
drop to the bottom of the computer core. I will lower
you, therefore, by the feet. Your job, once you arrive
at the bottom of the core, will be to find the manual
override switch and rip out its components. Then you
will have to use your own tissue as a conductor, in order
to power the toggle circuit."
"That sounds painful." Ford said.
"I assure you, it will be, but it is much less
painful than death."
"Yes, ma'am." Ford said.
Larkin immediately set upon opening her abdominal
compartment and ripping out the necessary length of
cable. She would have to spend several hours, no doubt,
with Lt. Commander Richards in repairs once this was
over. If they survived, that is.
"Okay, on my mark!" Richards shouted, looking
up.
Several seconds passed, without a sound from the
other side of the warp core.
"ON MY MARK!" Richards cried. "Come on, Ryan!"
Finally, Richards heard a barely audible voice.
"Ready up here any time, Commander!"
"NOW!" Richards shouted, throwing the emergency
manual cut-off switch that would keep the matter and
antimatter contained.
"I think I can feel it, Lieutenant!" Ford shouted,
as he dangled precariously, with Larkin's opticable
tied to one of his ankles.
"You know what to do, Ensign!" Larkin shouted.
"Time is of the essence."
"But two minutes already went by. We must be safe
from the warp core breach."
"That is correct. However, there is a large amount
of gamma radiation in this sector of space. If you ever
wish to have children, you will press your finger into
that connection."
From most women, Ford would have taken that as an
empty threat; but in these circumstances, he knew better.
"All right, all right!" Ford shouted, ripping the
panel off and shoving his finger into the socket.
Sparks flew as electricity surged into Ensign Ford
and lights came on all over the ship.
Forty minutes later, the Engineering team had
almost finished repairing the computer core.
"You are the biggest imbecile I've ever seen,
Ensign Ford." Lt. Commander Richards said, as he
packed up his tools and motioned for his team to follow
him out of the core access tube.
"Th-th-th-anks, Commander, can I t-t-t-t-take my
finger o-out of this p-p-p-panel n-nnnow?" Ford asked,
as the electricity continued to pour into him.
"Oh!" Richards said. "Gee, I forgot about that.
You could have taken your finger out of there half an
hour ago."
When power had gone out, Ensign Fresca had been taking
a stroll down one of the many winding corridors of Deck Nine,
going through the battle simulation in her head. As soon as it
had, she had immediately heard a yelp of pain. As soon as lights
came back on, she ran in the direction of the cry, only to find
Commander Conway lying curled in a fetal position on the
deck in front of his quarters.
Some sort of book hung loosely from one of his hands.
"Problem, Commander?" Fresca asked, laughing and
helping Conway up.
"Damn right there was a problem." Conway wheezed
painfully. "I was taking this new copy of the book I was
reading into my quarters when the power went off, and I
got stuck in between the doors. They almost cut me in
half!"
"That's just terrible." Fresca said. "Are you
ready for that battle simulation now?"
Conway straightened his uniform and examined the
book, making sure it was undamaged. "You sure sound
excited to take this test."
"That's because I know I'll pass it."
"We'll see." Conway said, laughing. "I'm going
to go to sickbay and get my injuries looked at first.
See you on the holodeck!"
Fresca felt a chill run down her spine as Conway
said that last bit. Oh well, she'd show him.
Lt. Commander Richards had just returned to
Engineering to repair Lieutenant Larkin (again) when he
got the call on his comm badge.
"Browning to Richards. Where on Earth are you? Did
you forget our appointment?"
"No, of course not honey." Richards replied. "I
just had a lot to do, you know, because of the power
outage."
"Well, enough with the excuses. Get up to
Counselor Peterman's office right now."
Richards looked over at Larkin, who sat
serenely on one of the diagnostic tables in Engineering,
looking like a scarecrow with all the stuffing taken out,
her opticable strewn all over the deck.
"No can do, honey. Lieutenant Larkin is in
pretty bad shape. It'll take me several hours to
repair her."
Larkin stood up, making an effort to cross to the
other side of Engineering, her cables constantly getting
wrapped up around her arms and legs.
"I assure you, Commander, that is not necessary. I
understand the nature of your problems with the Doctor
and believe it would be in your best interest to attend
this session."
"There you have it. Now get up here." Browning said
sternly.
"Gee, thanks, Lieutenant Larkin." Richards
said angrily.
"Think nothing of it, Commander." Larkin
replied. She still had not mastered sarcasm.
"So he reads as almost completely brain-dead?"
Commander Conway asked, watching Crewman Wilcox play
with a hypospray as Nurse Carter ran a scan on his vital signs.
"Yep. He should be a total vegetable. But there's
some kind of intelligence there."
"Right." Conway said, eying Crewman Wilcox.
"Then what's he doing eating that hypospray?"
Nurse Carter ran over to Crewman Wilcox and grabbed
the hypospray. "No, no, don't eat! Bad boy! Put it
down!"
Dean frowned. "Better feel?"
Holly shook her head. "Not unless you give me the
damn hypospray."
"Humma!" he said happily, handing over the
slightly gnawed hypospray.
"Amazing." Conway said. "Is he potty trained?"
Holly nodded. "I guess so. He seems to know where
the bathroom is. What he does in there, that's anyone's
guess."
"I see. So are all my bones in one piece or not?"
Conway asked.
"Yeah," Holly said. "You have some bruised ribs,
but the pain killer I gave you should take care of that."
Conway sighed with relief. "That's good to know.
Good luck with your, um, project."
"Thanks." Holly said, suddenly distracted by a
flying shape behind her as Conway left.
She turned around just in time to be caught in a
giant bear hug.
"I need." Dean said, squeezing her tightly.
"I know, I know." Holly replied, blushing. "Need
me all you want."
"This better be quick, Ensign." Lt. Hartley said in
annoyance, following Ensign Ford to the entrance to the
Starlight Lounge. "I just got off duty and I'm
exausted."
"I assure you, Lieutenant, it will be. As soon as
I'm done here, Captain Baxter has me doing 'disciplinary
duty,' whatever the hell that is, for my little mishap in
the computer core."
"Okay, okay. So what did you want to show me so
bad?"
"Follow me." Ford said, leading Hartley into the
Lounge.
The Starlight Lounge was darker than usual; Lt.
Hartley could barely see that there were several rows of
empty seats and a stage set up at the front of the room.
"What is this?" Hartley asked.
"You'll see. Take a seat in the front row." Ford
quickly jogged up to the front of the room.
Once on stage, Ford threw on a cape and top hat,
making sure both were on straight. "Hit the lights,
Brian!" He commanded.
Lt. Gellar hit a switch next to the doors to the
lounge, bringing the lights over the stage to full,
displaying what Hartley realized were several different
implements of magic.
"What the hell is this?" Hartley asked.
"Just watch!" Ford whispered, clearing his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is the moment
you've all been waiting for."
Lieutenant Hartley just covered her face. "I don't
believe this."
"Behold," Ford said, gesturing to a narrow, six
foot long, wooden box. "I will saw my loyal assistant in
half."
Mirk stuck his head out one end of the box. "Are
you sure you know what you're doing, Ensign Ford?"
"Shut up." Ford whispered through clenched teeth.
"Now, watch, as I defy the laws of physics themselves."
Ford pulled out a giant saw and laid it in a groove
at the center of the box.
"I have a terrible feeling about this." Mirk said,
closing his eyes.
Ford pulled the saw back and forth, smiling
wickedly. "Isn't it amazing, folks? He is unharmed!"
"Actually..." Mirk said. "I have a little bit of
a stomach ache."
"I said shut up!" Ford whispered again. "Look at
that! I have cut him entirely in half!"
To emphasize his accomplishment, Ford pulled the
two halves of Mirk's body apart and turned them around
and around, displaying how well he had actually cut them.
"Wow, that's pretty neat." Mirk said, glancing
over at the other side of his body. "How the hell did
you do that?"
Lt. Hartley stood up, clapping slowly and
sarcastically. "Hit the lights, Brian."
As soon as the lights came on, she approached the
stage. "Wonderful, Ensign. You're obviously a skilled
magician."
Ford bowed. "Why thank you, Miss Hartley. Does
that mean you'll let me take you on a date?"
"Not if you were David Copperfield." Hartley said,
laughing hysterically. "Sorry, Ensign. It was cute, but
I still won't date you. Bye bye!"
The Lieutenant left the lounge, laughing
hysterically all the way down the corridor.
Ford stood there holding his wand, feeling
extremely stupid. "David Copperfield?"
"Target the lead ship and prepare to
fire all weapons." Ensign Fresca commanded, leaning
forward in the center seat.
"Aye, sir. They will be within weapons range in
fifteen seconds." Saral replied from tactical.
"I really think we should go to warp this time."
Ensign Madera said from the helm.
"And I think you should follow my orders or be
relieved of duty." Fresca said. "Do I make myself
clear?"
"Perfectly." Madera replied. "Which maneuver did
you want me to do again?"
"Fresca Alpha Two-one-six."
"That's what I thought. Initiating Alpha Two-one-
six."
The stars on the viewscreen changed dramatically as
the "Aerostar" turned to face the oncoming Jem'Hadar ships
and headed towards them.
"You'll have to give it to her, Commander."
Captain Baxter said, watching Fresca over Conway's
shoulder from the observation room behind the viewscreen.
"She's got gumption."
"Well, let's see what she does with it." Conway
whispered, leaning forward.
"Fire all weapons!" Fresca commanded, clenching
her fists, as the ship began to shake from Jem'Hadar
fire. "And engage evasive pattern Fresca Omega Nine!"
"Acknowledged!" Madera replied, as the ship
banked, torpedoes and phasers streaming towards the ships
on the viewscreen.
"Two ships destroyed, two heavily damaged." Saral
reported. "They are continuing their attack."
"Is the surprise ready?" Fresca asked, turning
towards Saral and winking.
Saral nodded. "But of course, Captain."
"Very well." Fresca said, turning around.
"Release the surprise!"
Two blue, shimmering tri-cobalt devices came into
view on the screen, plunging towards the two undamaged
ships.
"The two undamaged ships have been destroyed. The
remaining two are no longer a threat." Saral reported.
"Our own shields are stable at forty-nine percent."
"Very well." Fresca said. "I think we gave them a
fight they won't soon forget. Set a course to return to
the wormhole, Warp Nine."
"Aye, Captain." Ensign Madera said proudly. "And
good work."
Suddenly the viewscreen opened up again, allowing
Commander Conway and Captain Baxter to exit.
"Excellent job, Ensign." Baxter said, shaking
Fresca's hand. "And congratulations to the rest of you
as well."
Conway made some notations on his padd and looked
around the bridge blankly. "Interesting solution, Ensign
Fresca. You realize we don't have a huge supply of tri-
cobalt devices aboard the Aerostar. If you were faced
with a similar situation here in the Delta Quadrant, you
might have to alter your strategy."
Fresca nodded. "Perhaps. But the question is..."
Conway tapped a few more notations on his padd. "I
still have some considerations to go over before I give
you my verdict. You'll know within the next couple
hours. Good job everyone." The commander turned to
leave. "Computer, exit!"
Baxter shrugged, following the Commander. "Don't
look at me, Ensign. It's his decision."
Fresca stood at the center of the bridge in
confusion. "So what the hell does that mean, 'You'll
know within the next couple hours'?"
Saral walked around the tactical railing, joining
Ensign Madera next to the holodeck exit. "Taken
literally, I would guess it means we will be notified
within the next two hours."
"Gee, that makes me feel a lot better." Fresca
said, collapsing into the command chair.
Counselor Peterman banged her head on her desk
again and again, something she had done for the last hour
that Richards and Browning had been arguing. "Why are you
guys doing this to me?"
"What do you mean?" Doctor Browning asked.
"You're wasting time arguing away the day like two
children, when you could be out enjoying life. I have a
date with the Captain tonight, and I may not make it
because you guys don't know how to express your love for
one another."
Richards looked at Browning and then to Peterman.
"What do you mean?"
Peterman took in a deep breath and tried to contain
her anger. "I mean, you guys can't figure out your
feelings, and you take it out on one another. It's a
common problem, actually."
Browning stared at Richards, amazed. "Oh, my God,
she's right!"
"You know, I think she is." Richards said. "I
just never heard things explained that way!"
Browning stood up and grabbed Richards's hand.
"Thanks a lot for your help, Kelly. I think we can
figure out the rest on our own."
The two left the office giggling and tickling one
another, as if they had never been any different.
Peterman just laid her head down on the desk
softly. "I have such a headache now."
"Good boy, good boy, stay boy!" Captain Baxter
commanded, trying his best to reign in his horse. When
Counselor Peterman hadn't shown up right away, he really
hadn't worried. He understood the workload she had, and
knew that her last case, Browning and Richards, might very
well take up the whole afternoon.
So while he waited, Baxter decided to make himself
useful, hitching up Kirk and Spock, the two horses he and
Peterman had programmed into the holodeck computer.
When Peterman still hadn't shown up, Baxter decided
to take Kirk out for a warm-up lap. Needless to say, he
was still having a little difficulty. He had quickly
found that the horses on the holodeck were much less apt
to do what he wanted than the horse he had rode inside
the Nexus Ribbon.
"Woah, Kirk, woah, come on!" Baxter shouted, as
Kirk flew through the air towards the barn.
Baxter had barely avoided smashing into the barn
when the holodeck doors parted, admitting Counselor
Peterman, still in her uniform.
"Freeze program!" Baxter cried, dismounting and
running over to the Counselor, hugging her gently.
"Hi, baby." Peterman said softly.
"Long day, hon?" Baxter asked, still cuddling the
Counselor.
"Definitely." Peterman said. "I'm pooped."
"Darn." Baxter said, inwardly glad not to have to
demonstrate his unpolished riding skills once again. "I
guess we'll have to ride some other time. I do, however,
have an alternate plan."
"What's that?" Peterman asked, her expression
brightening.
"Computer, load the program for Leonard's Lake,
July fourth, dusk."
The horse ranch shimmered away, replaced by a
beautiful lakeside setting, complete with a picnic
dinner, candles, and romantic music.
There was even a slight breeze.
"Oh, this is beautiful, Andy!" Peterman said,
kneeling down on the checkered picnic blanket and opening
up a bottle of champagne. "I love the way you think."
Baxter smiled. "It's not over. Computer,
fireworks please."
The sky suddenly was aglow with fireworks.
"I love you, Andy." Kelly said, reaching over
to kiss the Captain in the multicolored glow of the
fireworks.
"I know." Baxter replied, hugging the Counselor
closer.
Ensign Fresca drummed her fingers nervously on the
operations panel, anxiously awaiting Commander Conway's
verdict. It had been almost two hours, and she had heard
nothing from the Commander.
She didn't know why she had to be kept in such
suspense. What was the big deal, anyway? It was just a
crummy promotion to Lieutenant Junior Grade. Who cared
if she got it or not? Certainly not her.
Commander Conway stepped quietly off the turbolift
and replaced Lt. Tilleran in the command chair, staring
at Fresca as she nervously tapped her fingers on the
operations panel.
"Operations, status report!" Conway suddenly
shouted.
Fresca spun around in her chair, shocked. "What?"
"I asked you for a status report. Is that so
hard?"
Fresca turned back to her panel and checked it
quickly. "We're still en route to Barvan Twelve and all
systems are functioning normally. Repairs after the
power outage have, for the most part, been completed."
Conway smiled. "Good work, Lieutenant, take the
rest of the day off."
Fresca stood up. "Whatever you say, Commander."
She got all the way to the turbolift before she stopped
in her tracks. "Wait a minute..." she turned around.
"Did you say Lieutenant?"
Conway nodded. "Yes, I did. Unless you have a
problem with getting the promotion?"
"No," Fresca said, suddenly smiling. "No, not at
all. Thank you sir."
"Don't thank me. Thank Ensign Madera for not
wetting her pants back there. Now go get some rest while
I'm still in a generous mood."
"Yes, sir!" Fresca said, turning around and
heading for the turbolift.
"Commander." Saral said from tactical, "I am
picking up a subspace transmission from the Sulani."
"Put it onscreen." Conway ordered. "I wonder what
they want us to do now."
Prime Minister Wujan replaced the field of flying
stars on the viewscreen, smiling nervously. "Hello,
Commander...Conway right?"
"That's right. What can I do you for, Mister Prime
Minister?" Conway asked, just ready to be hit with
another request from the Sulani for some small "favor."
"It's actually quite funny, Commander. It's
definitely very funny."
"What are you trying to tell me, Wujan?" Conway
asked, preparing himself to get quite annoyed.
"Well, ha ha, you see...um, Barvan Twelve, it turns
out, is, um, an uninhabited world. That rumor we heard,
well, it was wrong. Evidently someone's idea of a
practical joke. Hee hee."
"I guess the joke's on us." Conway replied.
"Ahem, well, um, yes." Wujan said. "Obviously you
guys will want to head back this way again. Quite sorry
for the inconvenience and all. These things do happen!"
Conway shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, don't
mention it, Mister Prime Minister. We really didn't have
much to do anyway."
"Oh, and give the Captain my regards. Wujan out."
"Will do." Conway said, closing the channel.
"Ensign Madera, turn us around and take us back towards
Sulani space, Warp Six."
What a wasted day.
Ensign Ford walked slowly down the corridor, like a
man on his way to an execution.
He pressed a button at the proper door, and waited
patiently.
Moments later, Counselor Peterman opened the door.
"Oh, there you are Ensign Ford." She said, turning
around and gesturing for Ford to follow her into the
quarters. "I suppose the Captain talked to you about
your punishment?"
"Yes, ma'am." Ford said solemnly.
"Great. You and the gang will get on famously!"
"The...gang?" Ford asked, when suddenly a golden
streak hit him directly at the center of his chest.
"Have a great time. See you in a couple hours."
Peterman said, smiling. "Go easy on him, guys."
Captain Baxter joined the Counselor outside in the
corridor, offering her his arm as they walked to the
turbolift that would lead to Deck Twelve.
"I trust Ensign Ford is taking his punishment
well?" Baxter asked with amusement.
"I think it's safe to say that Mister Ford will
come out of this with a much better understanding of the
nature of responsibility." Peterman replied.
"Good." Baxter said, as the two approached the
turbolift. "I look forward to hearing his report
tomorrow morning."
Peterman nodded. "Considering how well it worked on
J'hana, and now Ford, I think I should write a paper on using
pet care as an alternative form of punishment for Starfleet officers."
"You do that, hon," Baxter replied, touching the turbolift
call button. "And if we ever get back to the Alpha Quadrant, I'll give
it my complete support."
Peterman grinned, totally missing the sarcasm behind Baxter's
remark.
When the turbolift doors opened, Baxter did his
best to stifle a laugh. Lt. Larkin stood within the
turbolift, her opticable strewn all over the place,
patiently waiting for the couple to enter.
"How are the two of you this evening?" Larkin
asked, activating conversation mode.
"Fine." Baxter said. "And...hee hee...you?"
"I have been better." Larkin said as the
turbolift descended. "I am currently on my way to
Engineering to have my optical cable re-threaded. Lt.
Commander Richards has been...busy all day. From what
I understand, he is working on very important repairs."
Peterman smiled. "I'll say he is."
"At any rate," Larkin continued, "it has been a
quite difficult several hours. Many people have become
entangled in the cables, and nine times so far I have
tripped, despite my best efforts."
Baxter and Peterman tried their best not to laugh.
"That's just terrible." Baxter said. "I hope Richards
can fix you."
"I am confident that he can." Larkin replied, as
Peterman and Baxter stepped out at Deck Twelve. "Enjoy
the Jemlatti'kari." The android added, as the doors
closed.
"Thanks," Baxter said, suddenly noticing that part
of Larkin's cable had been caught in the door of the
turbolift as it had closed.
Suddenly the cable seemed to get more and more
taut, until finally there was an audible snap, causing it
to become limp once again.
"Do you think she's all right?" Peterman asked with
concern.
"I'm sure." Baxter said, once again taking
Peterman's arm. "At any rate, it's not something
Richards won't be able to fix."
Captain Baxter and Counselor Peterman entered the
holodeck to find Commander Conway, Lt. Tilleran, Ensign
Saral, and Mirk waiting patiently, surrounded by the
usual black and orange holodeck grid.
Baxter looked around. "Where the heck is J'hana?"
"Good question." Conway replied. "We've been here
for ten minutes and we haven't seen her yet."
Suddenly the holodeck doors parted once again. Lt.
J'hana stepped into the holodeck, wearing a tight, sparse
leather outfit and smiling broadly.
"Fellow warriors, it is time to begin the
Jemlatti'kari." J'hana said proudly.
J'hana directed the group to form a wide circle at
the center of the holodeck, joining hands. J'hana stood
at one end of the circle, looking from one participant to
the next. "Am I to believe we are all ready?"
There were collective nods around the circle of
people.
Mirk leaned over to Lt. Tilleran. "What the heck
are we supposed to do here?"
"I don't know." Tilleran replied. "We don't know
a lot about Andorian tradition. Just play along."
"Silence!" J'hana cried, looking upwards.
"Computer, load program J'hana Beta Zero-one-six."
Suddenly a primitive looking, cavelike enclosure
materialized around the participants. At the center was
a pool of thick, swirling yellow goo.
"So we stand around and chant around the pool of
bubbly goo?" Conway asked from his spot next to J'hana.
"How predictable."
"No, Commander." J'hana laughed. "You must dive
in!" With that she gave Conway a shove. The First
Officer's arms flailed as he tried frantically to regain
his balance, until he finally plunged into the huge pool,
causing a tremendous splash.
Captain Baxter wiped off the goo that had splashed
in his face and tasted it. "Hmm." He said thoughtfully.
"Tapioca pudding. My favorite."
Peterman tasted Baxter's face as well. "You're
right. Doctor Browning will be quite upset that she wasn't
invited. It's her favorite too."
"The substance that is actually used on my planet
is deadly to humans, and this is the closest substitute I
could find in the replicator database." J'hana
explained, diving in after Conway.
"Last one in is a rotten egg!" Baxter cried,
dragging Counselor Peterman in with him.
As the seven crewmembers splashed around, Commander
Conway pulled himself up to the edge of the pool,
spitting tapioca and grunting. "So when do we get to the
part where we talk about our most honorable experience?"
J'hana laughed, dunking Ensign Saral under
playfully. "I lied about that part, Commander. The
purpose of this ritual is, in fact, to allow Andorians to
have fun. Something we are prone to forget about
from time to time."
"I hadn't noticed that," Baxter lied, dunking
Saral under the tapioca for a few moments and lifting
her back up again.
"This is highly illogical." Ensign Saral said. "I
fail to see the benefit in splashing around in tapioca."
"Back under!" Baxter shouted, dunking Saral again.
Tilleran emerged from the tapioca, eyes closed,
shouting "Marco!"
Mirk splashed through the pool. "Polo!"
Tilleran immediately found him, however. (Anyone
knows that it's incredibly stupid to try to play Marco Polo
with a Betazoid).
"Wait a minute..." Mirk said, beginning to catch
on, but, alas, it was too late. He was immediately
dunked by Lt. Tilleran.
Baxter lifted Saral out of the tapioca. "Do you
get it now, Ensign?"
Saral nodded. "Yes, Captain. I do."
As Tilleran and Mirk played "Marco Polo," Conway
just did his best to tread...well, tread tapioca.
"I have to admit, Lieutenant, this is not at all what I
expected from an Andorian ritual."
J'hana laughed merrily as she dunked Peterman. "Wait
until we get to the flame pit!"
"Huh?" Conway asked worriedly. Before he could say
anything else, J'hana dunked him under the tapioca, laughing
hideously.
NEXT TIME ON STAR TRAKS: THE VEXED GENERATION:
Commander Conway runs into his old Captain, James Stevens, and
finds himself pulled along on a quest to save some lost Alpha Quadrant
crews from being eaten by the Flarn and J'hana enters into a painful
yet rewarding relationship with an extremely obese Klingon in
"FINDERS KEEPERS"